


Unbearable

by realjane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-10-25 00:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20715413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realjane/pseuds/realjane
Summary: Charlie has always had a thing for her, but this was a new low, even for him... but what if he had a chance to help her out? Would he take it, even if he knew it would be torture?





	1. Chapter 1

He paced back and forth in front of his parents’ fireplace, loosened his cravat, and groaned. The ceremony was due to begin any minute, not to mention that he was supposed to stand up beside his brothers! But how could he? How could he stand up there and pretend to be perfectly calm when  _ she _ was there? 

Of course, she’s there. She had always been one of Ron’s closest friends… and that was the problem. Always leading Harry and Ron around, always invited to Weasley events. He just couldn’t manage to avoid her. Going to Romania on assignment? Only made him miss her laugh. Her appointment to the Magizoology department of the Ministry made his infatuation  _ unbearable, _ stoked by the fact that she actually  _ oversaw  _ approval for his projects. They spoke several times a week, and she often visited the Sanctuary. And why did her face have to pop up in the Prophet all the time? Ridiculous. He wrung his hands.

It was just a stupid crush from childhood--well, her late teens, and Charlie’s early twenties. Which made it all the worse! It was so innocent! And because he had always admired her from afar, especially during her courtship with Ron, he never could squash the feelings. 

But he normally behaved with professionalism… until the crush started getting to him, just listening to her--when she talked about how much she loved her work, what new book she had discovered, what flowers were growing in her garden… when she got agitated over conditions for the animals in her care. Hermione was vibrant and he could not get away from her. Thus, he had no choice but to panic, in his best robes, on this, the day of his youngest brother’s wedding. Charlie knelt down and braced a hand on the stones.

_ This is pathetic _ , he thought.  _ She’s just a girl--woman. A woman! Just a woman. And you, Charles Gideon Weasley, are a man. You’re allowed to admire a woman without being consumed by her. You enjoy her presence! You may have had one or two naughty dreams--but you never acted on them! You do not have to lose your mind--  _

The patio door slid open. “Are you alright? Gads, Charlie.”

He froze. He pressed his eyes shut. If he didn’t move, maybe she’d go away… a small hand grazed his shoulder.

“Charlie?” Hermione said, more forcefully. “Come with me, you look  _ pale! _ ”

“I  _ am _ p-pale,” he stuttered. Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen, where she shut the door and then pushed him to sit. He did so, with his head in his hands. 

“Not your normal ginger pallor, smartypants,” she said. He looked up at the ceiling in utter exasperation. Hermione pushed gently on the back of his head. “Just lay your head down.” 

Charlie pressed his eyes so tightly together that lights began to dance behind his eyelids. He breathed slowly in through his mouth and held it, hoping to suffocate. To no avail; Hermione’s soft hand on the back of his neck, pulling his hair back, made him blow out suddenly.

“What’s got you so riled up?” she asked softly. She kneaded the nape of his neck with her knuckles. Charlie’s toes curled up in his boots.

“Nothing,” he murmured. He almost choked when her thumb brushed his cheek.

“I don’t believe you,” she sighed. “You’re panicking. Tell me why?” She sat beside him on the bench and rubbed his back between his shoulder blades. Charlie didn’t dare look at her or he thought he might vomit.

“There’s someone...” he breathed, pushing his fingertips into his temples.

“Someone you want to avoid?” she finished for him. Charlie nodded. “Oh, bollocks. I’m so sorry. Does Ronald know that this person bothers you?”

Charlie shook his head. “He hasn’t the faintest idea.”

“Why didn’t you tell him so they wouldn’t be invited?”

He scoffed. “That wouldn’t have happened,” Charlie said. “They’re important…” To absolutely everyone, including him, Merlin be damned.

“I see,” she said. “Then you’re sort of stuck, aren’t you?” She rubbed his shoulder and then pulled one of his hands from his face. “Can I confide something?” she asked, squeezing his hand. Charlie’s hand spasmed in hers and she held it fast. Charlie nodded, looking down at their clasped hands. She was always so touchy… always hugging him and touching his arm, taking his hand. He’d long since given up on not flinching.

“I dreaded coming,” she said quickly. “Lavender is the one he went for right after we broke up. And I sort of… became okay with that because I deluded myself into thinking she was just a rebound and that it wouldn’t last. That he wouldn’t find someone before I did, let alone… you know. Marry her. So.” She sniffed, brushing away a single tear before it could find purchase on her cheek. Charlie pressed his eyes shut at the thought of her being in pain and covered their clasped hands with his free one. “I’ll be fine once things get rolling,” she said brightly. She laughed, despite herself. “Honestly, I think my heart is going to be just fine. But I’m kind of… jealous that he did it first. Is that pathetic?”

Charlie sighed. He dared a glance up at her. Her eyes were tracing freckles on the back of his hand and she smiled. “No. At least you didn’t have a panic attack.”

“I sort of did… s’why I came inside, and then--”

“Me.” 

“You,” she agreed. “Thanks for that.”

His brow furrowed. “For having a breakdown minutes before my brother’s wedding?”

“For distracting me,” she said sweetly. She brushed his hair off his shoulder absent-mindedly. “Weird idea. Don’t know if you’d even be into it…”

Charlie internally rolled his eyes. He would streak stark naked through the ceremony if it would help. And then die of embarrassment. Both of their problems would be solved! “Shoot.”

“Partners in crime for the night?” she suggested. “I could use your stoic solidarity in my corner and I think maybe you could use a distraction. Just… sit next to me, dance with me, keep my wine glass full… help distract your old friend.” 

You mean torture himself the entire night merely with her closeness, all the while anticipating touching her skin, basking in her laughter, being ravished by her wit… it would be his utter detriment and pleasure. To pretend that, for one night, he was the only person that mattered to her.

“You and me. We’re the only people who matter out there.” She squeezed his hand once more. 

“I would be in idiot not to accept,” he said firmly, utterly melting into his seat at the sight of the grin that overtook her face.

“Marvelous!” She released his hand and clapped in excitement. “One condition, however.”

He was half in love with her, already, so what limit could she possibly put on him? “I promise not to vomit on your shoes.”

She laughed. “Thank Merlin. Just… walk me to my seat? It’s going to be very hard for me to walk down that aisle… given everything.”

He sighed. “You can do this.”

“So can you,” she smiled. She pushed up from the table and held out her hands to him. “Look at me like you enjoy my company, all right?” She meant it as a rib but it busted Charlie’s wall down. He shook his head and allowed himself to actually take her in. She had asked him to, hadn’t she?

Hermione was wearing a burgundy velvet gown, which fell off her shoulders and hugged her body until the skirt swirled around her feet.  _ Autumnal goddess _ , he thought. Her hair was pulled up off her neck so the curls could balance in a halo around a starburst tiara. She had been spending time with Narcissa Malfoy in her research on Transylvanian Selkies and the influence was obvious. So was her disdain for the theme of the event, which was Pastel Faerie Dreamland. He smiled when he realized that her earrings were shaped like tiny golden skulls. 

She blushed under his studious gaze. “All right, all right. Save it for the stage,” she said, pulling him out of the kitchen.

Molly was speaking to Ginny in the living room, in frantic and hushed tones. “Oh!” Molly shrieked. “There you are, dears! Charlie, your brother needs you upstairs.”

Charlie’s eyebrows could not have climbed higher into his hairline. “Shouldn’t Ron be in the garden by now?” he asked.

“Idiot’s drunk,” Ginny sighed. “I don’t have any Pepper-Up on me and Mum and Dad don’t drink anymore, so... “

“So?” Charlie scoffed. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!” Hermione practically wrenched his arm off pulling him up the stairs. “We’ll have him down in five minutes, Molly!” She called. She held her skirts in her free hand and they climbed quickly to the third-floor bathroom, from which Ron was wailing a vaguely Irish-sounding Quidditch chant. “At least you can delay your torture a bit longer,” she said to Charlie, knocking on the bathroom door.

If only, he thought. His hand was sweating in hers.

“Ronald? Can we come in?” she said, opening the door a crack. The groom was prostrate on the rug in his powder-blue dress robes, sans trousers, cuddling a bottle of Firewhiskey, and singing to beat the band. 

“Odin’s left one,” Charlie breathed. He let go of Hermione’s hand and knelt down beside the keening fellow. “Ron, you’re blasted, mate.” His brother looked up at him and a massive smile broke out on his face. Then, he realized that Hermione was standing behind Charlie and his face fell into a twisted grimace.

“Can’t see the Bride... before the wedding! I mean… I mean  _ she _ can’t see me like this,” Ron said, covering his face. 

“I can go,” she said, thumbing out the door. Charlie nodded. Hermione closed the door behind herself and leaned against the door frame, keeping a watchful eye for any second cousin who might be a bit too nosy.

Ron pushed himself up to sit with Charlie’s help. “What brought this on?” Charlie asked.

“Lav and I fought this morning,” Ron said softly. “ _ Why’d you even invite Hermione? Why does she have to come to everything? She hates me. _ Blah blah blah. She can’t get over it, Char.”

“I know the feeling,” Charlie murmured. “What did you tell her?”

“I love her. She’s my best friend. How could I get married without her?” Ron rubbed his eyes.

“I bet Lavender didn’t like that.”

“Well, too bad!” Ron exclaimed. “If she can’t… accept that ‘Mione s’part of my life…”

“Ron, it sounds like Lavender is just nervous to get married. Hermione is your ex-girlfriend. It is only natural for Lavender to feel self-conscious about her coming, but it’s up to you to help reassure her,” Charlie said. 

“I don’t even know if I want to marry her,” Ron said, pouting. He hugged the bottle like a teddy bear. “Should’ve married Hermione instead.”

Charlie’s heart dropped into his shoes. Undoubtedly, Hermione was listening on the other side of the door, which meant that his hopes were dashed forever. He sighed. “Ron, why did you break up with Hermione in the first place?”

Ron seemed to consider this much longer than necessary, but he shrugged. “No spark. She’s so brilliant and I am an acorn. Tired of feeling like an acorn. She didn’t really want me, but she didn’t want to let me down… and that’s worse than feeling like an acorn, Char. Nobody should be with somebody because of pity.”

“And why did you decide to propose to Lavender?” Charlie asked, gently taking the bottle from Ron’s grasp and taking a swig of the liquor himself.

Ron’s face lit up. “She’s cute as a button. She laughs at my jokes. Everything is exciting and new to her. Even fountains. Dumb fountains! She thinks they’re so great. I love her like she loves fountains.” Ron hiccoughed. “Love ‘Mione too, but like… Ginny. But nicer.”

Charlie chuckled. “You want to be with Lavender. That’s why you proposed.”

“I want to be with her!” Ron grabbed Charlie’s arm in a vice grip. “That’s  _ why _ I proposed!”

“It’s why you proposed!”

“It is! Oh,” Ron sighed. “You should be a therapist.”

A knock sounded on the door. “Yes?” Charlie answered.

“It’s Lavender,” the fiancee in question spoke. “Could I speak to Ron, please?”

Charlie looked at Ron for his approval and Ron nodded frantically. “Come in but I can’t look at you, Lav-Lav!” Ron called, drunkenly. He clasped a hand over his eyes. The doorknob turned slowly and Lavender’s tear-stained face peeked around the doorway. Charlie beckoned to her to take his spot on the floor. Charlie left his brother to his conference and shut the door. 

To his surprise, Hermione was standing across the hallway in Ron’s room, leaning against his desk and smiling. She beckoned Charlie over to her. “She and I cleared the air,” she said simply, softly, as soon as Charlie was within arm’s reach. She held out a hand to him.

“Ron's a mess, eh?” Charlie asked. He set his hand in her outstretched palm hesitantly. She shook her head.

“I wasn't listening. I’ve done my fair share of eaves-dropping with that boy and it never ends well,” she laughed sadly. “I just realized that I don’t want to go on like this forever; hating being around them, but feeling obligated to attend every Weasley function, never ever getting peace. What a waste, when I could be enjoying myself.”

“So… you retrieved Lavender?”

“She was wondering why the ceremony was delayed… the opportunity presented itself.” She shrugged. Charlie studied her face. She was placid. 

“Was it hard?” He squeezed her hand when she nodded. “Do you feel better?”

“Might do with a drink,” she said quietly. “But we still have our agreement to uphold for the evening, so I’m expecting you to make certain I have a glass as soon as the ceremony is over. I am assured it will be short.”

“You’re lucky that we’re not Catholic.”

Hermione laughed. The door to the bathroom swung open and Lavender exited, alone. She leaned into Ron’s room and smiled at the two of them. “He’s ready. Make sure he has trousers on when he comes down?”

“Will do,” Charlie confirmed. The bride escaped back down the stairs and Ron appeared, pulled together and seemingly sober. He tightened his own cravat and blushed.

“Uh… could I have the room? I have to put my trousers on,” Ron said.

“Everything all right?” Hermione asked.

“Never better.” He smiled at her and glanced at their clasped hands, their closeness. “I could change somewhere else if you two need the room--”

“We were waiting for you, together,” Charlie said, too quickly. “Concerned as we are for your well-being. But now, we can see that you are well so we will leave you alone. Sorry for bothering you, mate! We’ll just go downstairs.” Charlie could feel the flush creeping up his neck and his hands were clammy as Hermione led him from the bedroom. As soon as Ron’s bedroom door closed, they released each other’s hands and stood on opposite sides of the corridor. Hermione smoothed her gown, while Charlie stared at her feet. 

“Well done, then,” she said, finally.

“Shall we go down?” he suggested.

“Let’s.” 

They took the stairs together, not touching but feet reaching the same step at the same time… every time. It became amusing by the last step--Charlie jumped down first and Hermione remained on the last stair, pleased to be at eye-level with him. 

“Here,” she gestured for him to come back to her. “Let me fix your cravat.” Charlie stepped closer to her again. Hermione went to work on tying the scarf just  _ so _ . She smoothed the shoulders of his robes once she was finished. “Very handsome,” she said, absent-mindedly. When she realized what she had said, she blushed, but she raised an eyebrow and dared him to take the compliment. Charlie made a move as if to loosen his tie again and she grabbed his hand to stop him. “You tosser,” she laughed. “Keep it tied until photos are done, at least.”

He held out his arm to her and she curled her hand into the crook of his elbow. “This look of yours,” he murmured to her as they approached the sliding patio door. “Is it intended as revenge?”

“It’s armor,” she whispered back. “Though I did sort of hope to elicit some interest from certain parties. Make him a little jealous.”

“It’s working,” he said, nearly inaudibly. He couldn’t be certain that she had heard him because her face remained pleasant and lovely, but she did squeeze his arm as they approached the massive garden… which was utterly packed with impatient guests, who kept turning around in their seats to see why the ceremony was so  _ late _ … which meant that absolutely  _ everyone _ was scrutinizing them. 

And there didn’t seem to be a place for her to sit.

“There aren’t enough chairs,” she breathed at the end of the aisle. “What if I just don’t watch the ceremony?”

“Nonsense,” Charlie said. “You are important. Come on.”

“Where are you going?” she asked through gritted teeth as Charlie lead her up the aisle towards the front of the seating. Sure enough, there were no available seats, but that didn’t seem to deter Charlie from pulling her all the way to the front row. Hermione could feel two hundred sets of eyes on her neck. Charlie leaned down to the man at the end of the row on the Groom’s side and spoke softly in his ear. The man nodded pleasantly and leaned over to his wife. The woman lifted the toddler beside her into her lap. Charlie gestured for Hermione to sit, but not before turning toward her. He kissed her cheek.

“There. Now you’ll be up here, with me.” He smiled at her brightly. Hermione shook her head in happy disbelief, taking her seat beside the little family. The toddler tried to hand her a slobbery griffon toy. She beamed at Charlie as he took his place beside his four other brothers, each in their matching grey dress robes. He looked away, as if he couldn’t handle her looking at him, but he was smiling. 

“It’s lovely to see Charlie with such a beautiful woman!” the wife leaned over to Hermione and smiled. “He’s always been the most wonderful nephew.”

“Oh, we’re not together,” Hermione said. Her face was hot. She fanned herself.

“Aren’t you?”

Hermione shook her head. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“He’s so good with his cousins,” the woman said, pointing to the child in her lap. The toddler was laughing at Charlie, who was making faces at him. Hermione shook her head. Charlie glanced at her and winked. She got hotter.

The lilting music of violins began to play and Hermione felt her heart leap. She must’ve looked nervous because Charlie mimed a deep intake and mouthed the word  _ Breathe _ . She nodded and took a ragged, deep gulp of air. The ceremony was beginning. The entire throng of guests turned to watch the party march up the aisle.

First, Harry led Ginny up the aisle to her place as Lavender’s maid of honor, followed by a stream of Lavender’s bridesmaids, all bedecked in various shades of pink and blue. Then, Ron followed with Molly on his arm. Hermione suddenly regretted her place up at the front where Ron could see her, but he did not look at her. Instead, he and everyone else lit up at the sight of Lavender at the end of the aisle. The crowd stood. Hermione turned back to face the front, looking up at the clouds, which were charmed to remain perfect, fluffy poofs. Then, she looked back at Charlie. He was watching her with a queer sort of look on his face.

_ Are you all right?  _ She mouthed to him. She had forgotten that he needed bolstering to get through the wedding, as well… poor Charlie! He nodded once and tried to turn his attention back to the Bride and Groom. 

Who must he be trying to avoid?

Most of the throng were Weasleys and extended family of the Browns, but there was a smattering of old school fellows and friends sprinkled into the mix. Hermione looked around at the crowd. Who could it be? It had to be someone other than a family member, and for the most part, Hermione could discern family from the friends at the party. But none of those friends really made sense because they were all  _ Ron’s _ friends from school, who were several years behind Charlie and would have been too young to know him. Whoever this dreaded acquaintance was, they had to have spent enough time with Charlie for him to develop sour feelings of some kind. 

It had to be someone with whom he was romantically involved--that’s the only thing that made sense to Hermione. Who? Who could it possibly be? As far as Hermione knew, he was only interested in women, which left very few possibilities. One of the Patil twins, perhaps… they both liked magical creatures well enough in school. Or Luna, who had gotten Hermione an interview in the Magizoology department in the first place--she had certainly been to the Romanian sanctuary where Charlie worked. But she was with Neville, and had been for several years, so… who could it be?

Then, it struck her like lightning. There was only one woman with whom Charlie would have spent a lot of time with who he  _ wasn’t _ related to and could have developed feelings for:

Lavender.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie and Hermione clear the air.

Poor Charlie! In love with the Bride… never mind that little pang of jealousy in her stomach. Hermione had hoped over the course of their work together that maybe--no, it didn’t matter. He didn’t see her that way. She’d be damned if she didn’t help him make it through the wedding, anyhow! Hermione looked at Charlie with utter regret and pity. He was confused by the look on her face and raised an eyebrow at her. She shook her head and smiled at him, all the while clutching her hands over her heart. Poor, poor Charlie. As soon as the ceremony was over, she was going to make sure that he enjoyed himself! So what if it was an excuse to stay near to him? It had worked so far.

The ceremony concluded with a sloppy kiss (due mostly to Ron’s inebriation). Charlie watched Hermione wipe a few tears--poor thing had been through so many complicated emotions for one day--and then she exchanged pleasantries with his aunt beside her, his mother’s youngest sister Yvette. He side-stepped the grasp of a Patil twin to escort Hermione down the aisle instead, much to the chagrin of said Patil.

“Time for that drink, eh?” he whispered, patting her hand on his arm. She nodded eagerly.

“Do let’s dance tonight; I can’t bear the thought of any stuffy conversation with what are sure to be droll table-mates,” she said.

“I have it on good authority that you’re seated with Luna and Neville, and I’ll have to endure the head table.”

“Please sit with me! Oh, you promised, Charlie,” she pleaded. She pouted and batted her eyes.

“Who could ever say No to you?” he chuckled. “Fine, but if we must be subject to the rest of the traditions this evening, can I just ask that we adios ourselves during the First Dance bit?”

“Of course,” she said. He would not want to watch Lavender slow dance with Ron--it would be cruel to expect it of him! Though he may have to slow-dance in their presence, later on, Hermione would make certain that his back was to them and distract him with being such an excellent waltz-er. “Drinks first--then down by the koi pond until the pomp and circumstance are over?”

“Perfect,” Charlie said. He lead her to the open bar, which was situated on the patio of the Burrow, conveniently just a few yards from the reception tent. Drinks in hand, they wandered arm-in-arm down towards the koi pond on the far side of the property. 

Hermione kicked off her shoes beneath the willow tree and sat on the swing. Charlie leaned against the trunk. She took a sip of her elvish wine and glanced up at him.

“Mind if I ask a presumptuous question?” she asked.

“Shoot,” Charlie said, swirling his drink.

“Are you avoiding someone here because you’ve got feelings for them?” she asked, wincing.

Charlie blanched and cleared his throat. He said nothing. Instead, Charlie stared into the pond and watched the large fish swim in circles.

“Because I know who it is, and you mustn’t be ashamed of it,” she said quietly.  _ Even though it isn’t me... _ “She’s going to be around for a while. It might torture you forever if you don’t… talk through it. You know? So, if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“Can’t do that,” Charlie murmured. He chugged his drink and turned on his heel. “Need another? I’ll be back.” He didn’t give her a chance to answer, but Hermione jumped up and hastened after him.

“Charlie, it’s all right!” she called. “I’m sure it’s hard to see her but you’re strong. Why not just get it out there and move on?”

Charlie stopped walking abruptly. He turned back to her. “What if I don’t want to move on?”

Hermione frowned. “She’s made her choice, Charlie.”

“Must be nice,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t want this. I hate myself for feeling like I’m out of control but I can’t... move on.”

“Why not?” she asked. She reached for his shoulder but he dodged out of her reach. “She must know how you feel. I’m sure she’d want you to be happy.”

“Because… because if she does know, she’s acting like she doesn’t, which is torture,” he said, throwing up his hands. “And if she doesn’t know, I don’t want her to find out and act differently around me. Either way, I’ll lose emotionally but I won’t lose her!” 

“She may be out of your reach, but she’ll be in your life forever…”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“I can. She’s married to your brother, for Merlin’s sake!”

Charlie’s whole body stiffened. “You think--” he stepped towards her and pulled her back towards the koi pond, away from the party. “You think I’m after  _ Lavender _ ?” he whispered fiercely, looking over his shoulder to be sure nobody had heard them. The closest guest was his great uncle Edmund, who was asleep in a deck chair.

“Aren’t you?” Hermione peeped. Charlie released her arm and ran a hand over his face. He scratched his cheek.

“No,” he said softly. “Definitely not.”

“Oh…” Hermione’s face fell. She was bewildered. But who else could it be? If not Lavender, who was someone that Charlie saw with enough regularity to become this important to him? He held up his hands and sighed.

“It’s you. Obviously.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide and Charlie’s closed in defeat. “Me?” she whispered. She looked down at her bare toes peeking out from under her skirt. This should make her happy… right? Why did  _ he  _ sound so sad? “I had no idea.”

“I know,” he said. “Why else would you have asked me to be your fake date?”

“I didn’t ask you to be my  _ date _ \--”

“Then  _ what _ did you ask of me?” he asked softly. He shrugged. “I hear the drums kicking in, they must be done with their first dance.” 

Hermione nodded. He must be filled with regret. So what if he liked her if he didn’t want to pursue it? She followed Charlie back to the reception tent silently. He found her table and talked someone out of their seat so he could join her, just like he promised. The music was thrumming--their entire table got up to dance, but Charlie and Hermione sat like statues, side-by-side. Several songs cycled before either of them got up the courage to speak, but something soft for swaying came up and Hermione turned to him. 

“This one?” she asked. He nodded once. Charlie stood and helped her step out from behind her chair. 

“Where are your shoes?” he asked, realizing she was barefoot.

“I must’ve forgotten them by the swing,” she said. Charlie couldn’t help himself--he smiled and shook his head. The awkward tension was broken, at least for now.

“Stand on my shoes, then,” he said. “Can’t bear the thought of trampling your toes.”

Hermione took his left hand and wrapped her other hand around his shoulder. Then, she stepped up onto his boots. “I’m going to be too heavy,” she protested.

“Nonsense.”

Charlie swayed them in slow circles; he had to hold her hand close to his heart in order to keep his balance, which meant that their cheeks were all but touching. Hermione focused on the rhythm of his breaths while her mind whirred.

“How long… have you, you know.” She clung to his shoulder and bit her lip.

Charlie sighed. “Years.”

“Oh.” Hermione nodded. 

“Suffice to say, as long as I’ve known you,” he said. He squeezed her hand.

“I really didn’t know, Charlie,” she said, pulling back enough so she could look him in the eye. “I get to see you so often, but…”

“I didn’t want you to know,” he said.

“Why not?” She looked like she was about to cry.

He frowned. “Because every moment from now on will be colored by you  _ knowing.  _ And I could never ask you to feel the same way. That wouldn’t be fair. And even if you did, by some miracle, feel the same way… I’d never know if it’s authentic or by the power of suggestion.”

“I may not have realized what was going on with you, but I’m fairly in tune with my own emotions!” Like the ones screaming at her to speak up for herself, for once!

He studied her face with narrowed eyes. “But what would be fulfilling about knowing that you’ve never found me attractive prior to said suggestion?”

Hermione couldn’t take it anymore.“Says who?”

Charlie stopped moving. “Come again?”

“You’re assuming I have never and do not currently find you attractive or have any tender feelings for you, and I’d like to know where you came up with that assumption.” Hermione shrugged. “I believe I’ve never said such a preposterous thing.”

“Um--well, ahem…” Charlie cleared his throat. “Given that you dated my brother…”

“What does that matter? You’re much taller than him, for one thing. You can grow a way better beard--well, you can grow one at all, so you have that going for you,” Hermione said. “You’re always letting me hold your hand--you’d think you’d get sick of how I’m always hanging off your arm. You’re strong without having to prove it, you love children, and you’re driven in your career. See? Attractive.”

“I’m sorry,” he scoffed in disbelief, swaying again in order to remain standing, “I have emotional whiplash, here. Yes, you’re always touching me and sending me owls about absolutely nothing… but I thought you were just polite and overly-affectionate with everyone.”

“I’m sorry you’re so dense!” she exclaimed. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and exhilaration. “You should have told me a long time ago, Weasley.” Hermione clicked her tongue. “What’s the worst thing that could’ve happened?”

“That… could’ve been  _ you _ marrying my brother.”

Hermione grimaced. “Point taken.”

“Thank you.”

“Welcome.” They smiled at each other but neither knew how to continue.

The slow song led into a faster one, something swingy. Hermione grabbed Charlie’s wrist and pulled him off the dance floor towards the bar. She swiped a bottle of wine while the bartender was distracted and led him back down the trail to the koi pond. Her shoes were still there. She gestured towards the bank of the pond with the bottle. 

“Shall we sit? And talk. More.” she suggested awkwardly.

Charlie shrugged off his outer robe and spread it on the ground for them to sit on. He sat down and cuffed his shirt up to the elbows. Hermione was looking at him strangely.

“What?” Charlie asked. Hermione sat down beside him and pulled her knees up to her chest.

“Well, now I’m just thinking,” she said.

“Should I not have said anything?” Charlie asked, more to himself than anything.

“No, I’m glad you did!”

“I’m not sure I am,” he admitted. 

“Hush, you,” she said with a pout. She handed over the wine bottle for him to open. Charlie flicked his multi-tool out and uncorked the bottle. Once he handed it back, Hermione took a large swig. “I was thinking about why it has never occurred to me before that you might…  _ also _ have feelings for  _ me _ . And I think it’s because you are very closed off, honestly.”

“I thought you liked my stoicism!”

“I like that you have a good poker face, but I hate that I’ve known you for almost ten years--”

“Blood hell...when you say it like  _ that-- _ ” Charlie lay back on his robe and covered his face.

“--And I’ve never actually been able to crack through your shell. I mean, you and I are always working and laughing together, but you’ve never even flirted with me! While I flirted  _ mercilessly _ , to no avail.” 

“It’s impolite to flirt,” Charlie said from beneath his hands.

“It’s  _ fun. _ Come on, try it now.”

“I have entered an alternate universe--where every word out of your mouth is what I want to hear, but instead, it’s making me feel ashamed of myself,” he said, peeking up at her from between his fingers. “I don’t know whether to be happy or embarrassed.”

“Fine. Tell me why you like me.” Hermione poked his ribs and he scowled at her.

“I take it all back,” he growled.

“You numpty. I dare you!” Hermione lay down beside him and propped her head upon her hand. Charlie mimicked her motions. Then, he grabbed the wine bottle and took a swig of his own.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, after a long sigh. “Lovelier every time I see you, somehow.”

“You have lovely eyes,” Hermione retorted, plainly.

“Is this a competition?” he asked.

“If you like,” she said innocently, stealing the wine bottle away. “Your arse is the perfect shaped arse,” she said.

“Hang on--when have you ever  _ seen _ my arse?” he asked. His face was beet red.

“Every single game of backyard quidditch in the summer, every time we go for a swim, when it’s too hot in Romania to wear your outer robes--”

“I get it, please do stop there.”

“--That one time you tricked me onto a thestral and I got a really good handful trying to get off of it without insulting it--”

“I thought that was an accident!”

Hermione grinned. “Guess you’ll never know.” 

Charlie scowled. “Then you’ll never know how much I like your arse.”

“How much?”

“That’s personal.” He sat up and loosened his cravat, pulling it off entirely. “Sometimes I can’t stop staring at your mouth because your lips look so soft!” He angrily threw the cravat into the pond in a balled-up wad. “And you  _ constantly _ validate my instincts with my projects, even if my idea is crazy or needs work. Which is honestly very dangerous!”

“You are the best possible person for that role,” Hermione said, sitting up, “and you’d never do anything barmy. Back to your lips--sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to kiss you through all that facial hair. Like, do your lips feel things?”

“Yes, they do, thank you  _ very  _ much!” Charlie huffed.

“Prove it!”

Charlie launched himself at her face, hands cupping her cheeks, lips stroking hers--and then he threw himself backwards. He looked absolutely stunned with himself, embarrassed--then, ashamed. He looked away from her and ran a hand through his hair. Hermione shuffled closer to him so they were knee-to-knee. She inclined her head down until she could reach his lips and she kissed him back. He acquiesced. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself but she shifted him off balance. Charlie fell forward and broke their fall by bracing a hand behind Hermione’s head. His face was inches from hers. Studying her eyes, her lips, any semblance of an expression.

“I have a hypothesis,” Hermione whispered. She leaned up and kissed him again, changing her tempo to slow and languorous. “My hypothesis… is that… our… chemistry goes beyond… respect for each other’s work and secret, mutual admiration,” she said. “So I’d like to run a series of tests on the subject and get to the bottom of it.”

“W-what do you have in mind?” Charlie asked softly. He didn’t dare move.

“First off…” she pulled him back down to kiss her. “We keep doing  _ this _ . Turns out I can feel your lips just fine.” Charlie smiled against her mouth.

“What else?”

“We always tell each other the truth about how we feel. As two beings who care about each other’s feelings, as friends even. No more secrets.”

Charlie nodded. “In that spirit, I’m having a difficult time keeping my  _ composure  _ with you at this juncture, given our latest activity, the gravity of my feelings for you, and the possibility (however minute) of seeing those feelings… to completion.”

“Would you prefer to stop?”

“Given that we are technically still at my brother’s wedding and in public, and given that I spent the beginning of this day with a panic attack… I think now isn’t the time to pursue it.”

“I can honor that,” Hermione said with a serene smile. She tucked a lock of hair behind his ears. “I’m sorry for pushing you to snap.”

“It was extremely irritating, and I can’t say that I’m sorry you did it,” he said, kissing her one last time on her very soft lips. “I will… need some frequent reassurance that this isn’t a dream. It just seems too easy and I don’t want to take you for granted.”

“ _ Ten years _ of misery was too easy?”

“You know what I mean,” He said, rolling his eyes and chuckling. He laid on his back. Hermione took another sip of wine and smiled down at him.

“Are you ready for our presentation to the Wizengamot?” she asked. He gave her a funny look. “What? I thought you might appreciate a change of subject.”

“I think,” he began, rolling the thought over in his mind a few times before he verbalised it, “that I just want to dance with you. We can see where the night takes us from there.” Charlie stood up and brushed himself off.

“I’m amenable.” Hermione held up her hands to him, which he readily took and helped her stand. She kissed him. Charlie rested his forehead against hers.

“Please,” he murmured, “I’m needy. Tell me in no uncertain terms that you really… like me.”’

“I feel much more strongly than that,” she said.

“How much?”

She grabbed his lapels and glanced over his shoulder. Then, she grinned and pulled him against her, kissing him deeply… wrapping her arms around his neck, ruffling his hair, curling his toes. She pulled away and smiled at his dazed face. “Enough to kiss you in sight of your mother, who is currently making her way down this pathway towards us, knowing full well that she will no longer leave us alone until there are at least  _ six _ miniature versions of us tugging at her skirt.” His eyes danced with laughter, even as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I hope I’m not intruding!” Molly called with utter joy.

“Cat’s out of the bag,” Charlie said sheepishly.

“I hope you’re not upset,” Hermione whispered.

“I think I’ll need therapy to process this day, but I have never been happier in my entire life.” Charlie held out his arm to Hermione and they turned to face Molly together.

“Hermione, I was just coming to get you! Lavender is about to throw her bouquet,” Molly said gesturing back to the tent. They walked with her.

“Oh, I’m not a very good catch,” Hermione said. Charlie chuckled and she elbowed him in the side.

“That’s all right dear. I just want your help making sure  _ Ginny  _ is the one who catches it, or so help me, Harry will never propose!” Molly looked absolutely bereft at the thought. She threaded her own arm through Hermione’s free one and studied the two of them. “Now… just humor me. How long has this been going on between you two?” She asked. Charlie opened his mouth but Hermione spoke first.

“Years, honestly,” she said. Charlie squeezed her arm.

“Ah!” Molly exclaimed. “You are so naughty to keep it from me! But of course, Hermione dear, you know how much I’ve always thought of you as one of my daughters, so of course, I am delighted. I just hope that your wedding isn’t kept a secret as well…”

“Mum, if you bring this up inside the tent to the rest of our family,” Charlie warned softly, “we’ll elope in secret and you’ll find out through the Prophet’s classifieds.”

Molly went white as a sheet at the thought. “I give you my word!” She left them with a smitten look and disappeared into the tent. Charlie slid his hand down Hermione’s arm and into her palm.

“You’re not ashamed of me, already?” Hermione teased.

“Of course not. I just hate being the center of attention, and I’d like to enjoy this quietly, for now. If that’s alright with you.” He smiled. Hermione shook her head and sighed dramatically, hand-to-forehead.

“You know, if you’re that easily embarrassed, we may very well be forced to elope!” She winked. Charlie tugged her close to him and brushed her cheek. She closed the gap and kissed him for the umpteenth time. “I can do that  _ whenever  _ I want, now!” she giggled. She turned to go into the tent and ran straight into Ginny. Who looked… at first, stunned? And then absolutely thrilled. Hermione grabbed Ginny’s wrist and pulled her into the tent, all while Ginny stammered and tried to say  _ anything _ . “Explain later, after I solidify your bouquet-toss victory,” Hermione whispered. Ginny grinned and rubbed her hands together.

“Harry proposed last night,” she whispered back. “But you know how I like to win!”

“When were you going to tell me?” Hermione asked as they took their places with the other women of the party.

“Same time you told me that you’re dating my brother!” 

Hermione shushed Ginny, but nobody was paying attention to them. “This is a new development!”

“I’ve seen the way you look at each other when you think nobody is looking,” Ginny whispered. “I just hope he’ll be good to you.”

“He will.” Hermione spied Charlie sneaking into the tent and she smiled. 

As Lavender lobbed her massive bouquet of daisies over her head, all the single women politely elbowed each other out of it’s path. Hermione and Ginny leapt in the air to intercept the bouquet… and Ginny caught it, of course. She accepted her prize humbly while her mother chirped her delight to the entire party.

Ginny planted a big kiss on Hermione’s cheek and handed her the bouquet.

“You’re next, witch!” Ginny taunted softly. Hermione blushed but she couldn’t help but laugh. Charlie met her at the edge of the dance floor and silently handed over a glass of wine. She took a large gulp. 

“I think I need to get going, unfortunately,” Charlie murmured.

Hermione looked up at him in surprise and she frowned. “Oh. I see.”

“You see, I have a presentation to give to the Wizengamot tomorrow,” he said, “and I am nervous about how I’ll perform given the brilliance of my partner. So I really ought to get some sleep.” He nodded to the exit and held out his arm to her. It took her but a moment to take his arm. They left the tent without drawing attention and managed to leave the property without a Weasley intervention, but Hermione grew nervous as they reached the end of the front walk. What sort of parting could they have, now? Charlie stopped walking but tightened his grip on her hand. She looked up at him.

“Romania is an awfully long way to go, just to come back to England tomorrow…” she said softly.

Charlie smiled the tiniest eye corner-crinkling smirk. “That’s true.”

“You’re not allergic to cats, then?”

He shook his head. Hermione dipped two fingers into her cleavage and produced her wand. Charlie’s eyes widened. “Has that been in there the whole time?” he exclaimed.

“I’m surprised you didn’t feel it!” Hermione laughed.

“Get us out of here,” Charlie growled, hauling Hermione against his chest. She cackled and they  _ disapparated. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this sweet little fluffy two-fer!

**Author's Note:**

> This has been an idea at the back of my mind for a while! A little flirty thing.


End file.
